


Sleepless Nights

by FictionalMindFrame



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post S1 finale, i don't know where this came from, sad hours, smell is the best sense and you can't convince me I'm wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalMindFrame/pseuds/FictionalMindFrame
Summary: After returning from apparent death, Raelle's mind wanders to Scylla and she struggles to sleep.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I wrote this tipsy and barely rewrote it so I fully expect it to be littered with idiocy

It had taken two weeks for her and Abigail to be found, both practically on the brink of death again by the time they had stumbled onto a US base that, of course, Abigail had known about. They'd passed out from the exhaustion, and when they woke, their bodies had been fixed as well as they could, but the scar over Raelle's heart still remained. 

And now she was back at Fort Salem, the belongings that had been swiftly packed up upon her supposed death returned to her in a cardboard box that she had thrown at the foot of her bed before falling straight onto the mattress. That had been hours ago, and here she was, still tossing and turning. You would think that after so long trying to get back, sleeping on her own army issued bed again would be comforting, but with the exhaustion resolved by fixers and her previous slumber, she couldn't switch her brain off.

The bed wasn't right. She'd spent so few of her nights on base in this bed, and most of the nights she had slept here had happened after the Bellweather wedding. Suffice to say, none of those night's sleep had been restful.

Even during the last two weeks, her and Abigail had slept huddled together to keep warm during cold nights. Now, with the Bellweather on the other side of the room and Tally silent in the bunk above her, she felt isolated

She'd wanted to ask earlier, as soon as the bat had landed and Anacostia had greeted them -the relief on her face was disturbing, Raelle had been expecting sharp words and instead received a smile- but she couldn't. Too afraid of the answer she'd receive, she swallowed her questions about the woman who's initial had appeared daily on her palm for the last two weeks. She wasn't dead, and Raelle was glad for that despite the regrettable words she'd last spoken to the witch. What was harder to reconcile, were her mixed feelings about the remaining options. 

If Scylla was alive, then she had been transferred to some prison somewhere, and the possibilities with that were too great. Just because she wasn't dead yet, as proved by the messages on her hand, didn't mean she wouldn't be executed in the future- Raelle had no idea logistically how that worked. When, where, how. She'd spent hours trying to rid her head of the ugly thoughts, to stop fixating on images of unseeing, lifeless blue eyes and the myriad of ways they could become so. It hadn't worked. Then she turned to what would happen even if the brunette wasn't to be executed. In that reality she was still alone, and if her visits to the necro while she'd been on base were any indication, then presumably she was also desperately miserable.

Two weeks in the desert had left her with only her own thoughts, and occasionally Abigail's. At first, she'd thought solely of survival, of how to find a way to safety amidst an unfamiliar landscape and unknown Camarilla numbers. As soon as the S had appeared on her hand on the second day though, her mind switched lanes. Two weeks of soul searching had lead her to the conclusion that she could forgive Scylla, but she didn't think she could trust her again. Not that that would be an issue anyway, given the treason and what not. Getting over the woman however, would take a lot longer, despite the betrayal she felt. 

Hence the lack of sleep.

She wasn't warm enough, the barracks were always kept slightly colder than she was used to, and that cold was all too severe a reminder of the body that wasn't bleeding warmth into her. She'd always found it oddly calming, the loud way Scylla thought, awake to all hours of the night holding Raelle while whatever plagued the brunette forced her awake. She missed the deep sense of satisfaction she always felt when she woke in the middle of the night to find the necro actually sleeping, proud that she'd been able to offer enough comfort to lull the witch to her dreamland. She missed the smell. Constant. Distinct. So Scylla that she'd never even needed to open her eyes to know she was near, whether she was still in bed beside the blonde or reading through notes in early morning light at the foot of the mattress. 

A thought crept into her head. An unwelcome, wholly tempting thought that sat stubbornly and loudly in the forefront of her conscious. She should be getting over this. Learn to sleep on her own, without Scylla's soothing presence enveloping her. She couldn't spend the rest of war college -which she'd only just found out she'd gotten into- yearning for a witch who was Goddess knows where suffering Goddess knows what.

But the longer sleep eluded her, the more likely she was to humour the idea. If she didn't give in now, she'd continue to toss, getting increasingly more tired until eventually she got up and crept over to riffle through that box. If it wasn't tonight, it would be tomorrow, or next week, but it would happen. 

She sat up gently, trying to avoid shifting weight around on the creaking frame of the bunk, clinging to her pride even if she couldn't cling to her resolve. If Abigail found out she missed the necro, sisters or not, she'd be mortified. 

The bed creaked as her feet hit the cold floor, one or both sending a shiver up her spine. The shiver didn't compare in any way to the shock that froze her body when Tally's voice whispered from above, "Everything okay, Rae?"

She could save this, just be nonchalant. Tally didn't have to know she was latching onto the hope that the grey army regulated shirt she'd swapped for Scylla's, or the brunette's old hoodie, was still mixed in with the rest of her belongings in the box.

"I'm fine Tally, just cold." 

The redhead hesitated, not convinced, but rolled over and murmured an 'Okay' anyway.

Panicking suddenly, Raelle whispered into the dark room again, "Hey Tal? You don't know if they washed any of my stuff, do you?" 

"Hm?"

Raelle took a blind step towards the foot of their bunk beds, trying not to trip over something and wake the last member of their unit up, "When they gave us our stuff back, you don't think they washed any of it do you?"

"Why would they wash your stuff? And why does it matter?" The words were slurred, but Raelle had deciphered her sleepy words enough times that it was easy by now.

"I don't know, why does the army do anything? And it doesn't matter, I guess."

It was hard to see into the box in the blanket darkness of the room, but the bright yellow hoodie stood out against all the darker colours of her own clothes. She could riffle around for the one grey t-shirt that wasn't her own and have no one be any the wiser in the morning, but without more light that could take ages, and she was starting to get tired enough not to care.

Looking at the fabric in her hands, she couldn't help think of the day she'd stolen it. Scylla ran warm, and Raelle's thin frame had sought that heat out everytime a chill settled into her bones. 

_"Come back to bed."_

_Scylla looked back at her from the desk chair, perfectly taken notes in her hands, and Raelle felt her heart swell with something she wasn't ready to put to words when the brunette smiled at her with fondness._

_"I have class in 30 minutes, Rae. I'll get gaurd duty if I don't finish this before then."_

_"But I'm cold." She could hear how needy she sounded, but Raelle didn't care._

_The necro got out of her seat despite her words and made her way to the bundled up Raelle, sitting at the edge of the bed where she could brush loose unbraided hair behind the blonde's ear._

_"You know, I used to be a model student before you arrived. Now I'm just scraping by." Raelle might have been worried at the words, if it weren't for the teasing lilt in Scylla's voice as she said them._

_Scylla pressed her lips against the blonde's pout chastely, more of a peck than anything, and then let her forehead rest on Raelle's._

_When she pulled away again, Raelle let out a groan and closed her eyes. Assuming Scylla was going back to work, she snuggled deeper into her cocoon, but after a few moments of hearing the brunette shuffling around the room, she felt Scylla back at the bedside. Opening her eyes in question, she saw Scylla moving to sit with one leg curled under herself on the bed, holding in her hands an old yellow hoodie that Raelle had borrowed while in this room many times._

_"Sit up then, if you're so cold."_

_Raelle couldn't say no to any request the necro made when she smiled at her like that, not that she wanted to. She rose up, letting the covers fall to her waist and shivering at the cold air hitting her bare skin. Scylla held the open end of the garment up to her, and the blonde raised her arms up to let the witch pull it over her head. She lay back down and pulled the covers back up as Scylla leant back over her. The brunette's lips were soft against her crown, nose catching the hood of the borrowed fabric, and gone all too soon._

_When Scylla leaves for class in the dark of night 20 minutes later- as she often does, necros work is done at all hours- Raelle remains cuddled up in her bed, as per usual. Scylla will be gone until after the fixer gets up and goes to training in the morning, and neither of them saw any reason for her to stumble her way back to Circe in the middle of the night._

_She woke again three hours later, and for a second the warmth of the bed and the smell of Scylla's hoodie makes her forget she's alone. Realising she's the only occupant of the bed, she checked the time, happy to see that for once she has enough time to make it back to her own barracks and get ready for the day before third bell._

_She goes to pull off the hoodie and put her own clothes back on, wishing she could walk back to her room in the coziness of Scylla's clothing. Just as she was about to leave the necro's room, she paused and glanced at the folded material on the bed._

_She could take it. Stuff it in her bag and have no one know. Scylla would notice it wasn't there, but she'd let it slide. Would know what had happened and would let the fixer be without mentioning it. At most, she might teasingly bring it up the next time the blonde complains of the cold._

_Deciding it was worth it, she crossed the room and hid the garment neatly in the bag._

Scylla never had mentioned it. Had only smiled when Raelle brought it back after it lost its smell, and returned it to her a week later, cleaned and worn enough to once again smell of the brunette. Shortly after that, Raelle had picked up the wrong grey t-shirt in a rush to get back before inspection, and the pair had hung on to their swapped shirts, intermittently swapping again on purpose.

Raelle shrugged the hoodie over her head slowly, afraid she'd find Scylla's scent gone and be able to take comfort only in the extra warmth and the memories seared in her brain. 

She nearly cried when she caught the brunette's smell lingering in the fabric, but she shut her watering eyes and inhaled instead. She tiptoed back to bed, and wrapped herself back up, just as she had the same day she took the hoodie from Scylla's room first. 

Her mind still ran wild, but it was easier to block the thoughts out when she could practically feel Scylla wrapped around her. 

She would ask Anacostia about Scylla in the morning, and she could deal with the answer then. For tonight, she was going to pretend that the last month hadn't happened. Pretend she was in a different bed, pretend the warmth the hoodie provided was Scylla's and the smell was coming from the source instead of a stolen hoodie that would soon lose what had made it worth stealing.

* * *

Abigail's piercing stare was the first thing that she saw when she stirred from sleep.

"What the hell are you wearing, Shitbird?"


End file.
